by Desiree Holt
Her shallow pants quickened and she teetered on her feet.
He leaned forward, inhaling the succulent floral scent of her hair. She smelled like a warm breeze on a sunny afternoon. Comforting and peaceful, and yet stirring his wicked desires as greatly as she soothed them.
“I don’t know how to rely on anyone, Aura. How to trust someone with my heart, when they might crush it without hesitation,” he murmured against her neck, pouring out his innermost self to her. If ever there was a time to lay his soul bare, this was it. “My mother passed when I was a youngling and, for a time, everyone abandoned me to their grief. The only person I’ve ever been able to count on is Alder.”
“The satyr?”
“Aye. How did you know?”
She laughed mischievously. “He was rarely not at your side. I rather like his humor.”
Of course. Ekho had haunted him for nigh on a year. She must be aware of many things about him.
Then, why did he suffer this burning urge to confess?
To offer himself before her feet and pray, just pray, that she would have him.
For all that he was.
* * *
Petraeus’s words softened Ekho’s heart. The year she’d frequented him, she’d determined him to be a stubborn, free-spirited centaur possessing little or no real substance.
That clearly wasn’t true. Had her trepidations about males dimmed her view of Petraeus?
Perhaps because she’d been far more attracted to him than she’d permitted herself to be. A small part of her must have sensed he was her mate and had fought with everything in her being against it.
No more. She seized both sides of his face with her hands and pressed his mouth to hers, sinking into his kiss. This male was everything she’d vowed not to fall for.
Never had she been more wrong.
His touch both seared and chilled her skin, sending a rush of shivers parading along her arms and thighs. This close to him, it was easy to forget how she’d sworn off love and closed her heart.
She yearned to fall for him, this charming and untamed centaur who pledged himself to her, but something held her back, as though the icy walls surrounding her heart hadn’t yet melted.
In time, they might.
And she could be his.
Ekho clutched the fabric of his shirt, craving so much more than a kiss, but he stiffened, his nostrils flaring. A second later, twigs snapped through the forest, announcing the return of their companion.
Petraeus groaned then pulled back from her and winked. “Later, sweetling.”
The wicked promises in his eyes tingled through her body, teasing her with that future moment of surrender and bliss.
Rhoetus treaded into their view and they busied themselves arranging the campsite. Ekho frowned at the wood Rhoetus stacked.
“Couldn’t find your plant,” he whistled low, “but it’s getting dark.” By the smirk in his tone, he fathomed precisely that no such plant existed.
* * *
The next morning, they set off at dawn and an hour later, arrived at the Lapith castle. They stopped at the border of the woods, facing a thistle-covered meadow that stretched toward the castle walls.
Petraeus shuffled his hooves. “We do all realize this is a trap, right? We overheard that they’re expecting us, so I have to question whether rushing into the place where you were held prisoner, Ekho, is the best course of action.”
“Frightened, centaur?” Rhoetus scoffed and cracked his knuckles as he scouted the castle.
“Actually, yes. They might not have harmed you, but I’m of Cheiron’s line, and if I step inside, they’ll not hesitate to kill me.”
Rhoetus snorted.
“Forgive me for preferring to survive.” Petraeus scowled at him.
“My daughter’s in there,” Ekho murmured firmly. “Besides, you’re not coming with me. Neither of you are.”
Before he could question her, she vanished in a puff of mist, her cloud-form sailing across the warm breeze.
Damn. He fisted his hands, helpless.
“Well, that’s a handy trick.” Rhoetus cocked his head in the direction Ekho had gone. “I suppose this is the part where we bravely dash in there after her.”
“Indeed.” Petraeus plucked a blade from his leather vest and crossed the meadow, stealing inside the same grate he had the last time he’d broken into Philaeus’s fortress. The King truly ought to employ more guards.
Rhoetus sprinted after him, following him inside. They both skidded to a halt as soon as they stepped into the dungeon.
The other centaur sniffed the air. “She’s not here.”
Petraeus copied him, and true enough, scented no nymphs.
Well, none except Ekho. She emerged from around the corner, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. Where could she be?”
“Ah,” Rhoetus scratched his jaw, “there is one more place we can look. But neither of you are going to like it very much.”
Chapter Eight
What is this place? Ekho quickened her steps, staying close to the two centaurs. The three of them crept through a tunnel, the walls formed of a black gemstone so smooth it reflected their images across its glassy surface, as though someone had stuck a heated poker inside the cave and melted the walls.
After they’d departed the castle, Rhoetus had led them to this place, a cave on the far side of the mountain. He’d claimed Minthe had told him about it.
The hairs on her arms raised and tingled, and icy dread slunk down her spine. A silent fog of menace and doom stifled the air inside this tunnel.
The long, narrow passage opened into a spacious cavern, gleaming with an ethereal light. Omph. She crashed straight into Petraeus’s flank just as he skidded to a stop, cursing. He steadied her, and they both gaped at the view before them.
Every inch of the vast cavern displayed row after row of shelves containing crystal cylinders filled with glowing liquid.
She inched forward, studying the multi-hued vials. A familiar vibrancy pulsed through her as she neared them.
“What in bloody Hades do these cylinders contain?” Rhoetus scoffed, grimacing at the shelves.
“Not what,” she whispered. “Who.”
“What do you mean?” Petraeus tugged on her hand, drawing her gaze to his.
She shuddered and squeezed her eyes, trying to silence the awful truth. “They contain the blood of nymphs. More specifically, their powers. Or a taste of them.”
Their essences blasted through her. Some could wield fire, others, ice. Many manipulated breezes as she did. There were nymphs who formed waters, nymphs who grew plants. Nymphs to make one remember, and nymphs to make one forget. Even nymphs she’d never heard of.
Sudden panic flooded her. Minthe. She dashed forward, searching for a hint of her daughter’s abilities among the rainbow of vials.
“Why?” Petraeus tossed his head. “Does this mean Philaeus and Apollo plan to use the nymph powers against Hades and Persephone’s army?”
“All the more reason I must speak with your father.” Rhoetus’s dry tone clinked off the stone walls.
A misty energy tugged at her from a passageway on the opposite side. “Minthe?” She rushed forward, ignoring Petraeus’s barking appeals and galloping pursuit.
Blinking, she drew up short in the next chamber, and gasped as she caught sight of her daughter.
In a dim cavern, Minthe balanced upon a narrow rope bridge above an endless chasm. “Mother?” Her bright green eyes shot wide a second before she waved them off. “Don’t come any closer.”
The two centaurs sprinted into the chamber and halted beside her.
“That’s your daughter?” Petraeus gawked at Minthe. “She’s older than me.”
“Yes, well, so am I,” Ekho huffed. True, the maiden before them was a beautiful, mature nymph, her long, cherry-red locks twisted into two plaits and her sensuous blue gown settling below her knees. That didn’t change her status as Ekho’s daughter. No matter how old the child
grew, Minthe would always be her sweet babe.
Petraeus stood, frozen and frowning, while Rhoetus paced the perimeter of the chasm.
“It’s enchanted.” He scratched his chin, crouching and squinting at the ledge.
“Of course it is.” Ekho sighed. “This is a trap. They know I will go after her.”
“You can’t.” Petraeus unfroze and blocked her. “You’ll be just as trapped as she.”
“The spell is only directed toward nymphs. This must be why you summoned me.” Rhoetus grunted and rose, facing them. “I’ll fetch her.”
“The hell you will.” Petraeus crossed his arms.
“Listen, youngling.” Rhoetus narrowed his mismatched eyes. “If I’d wished Ekho harm, I would’ve pushed her onto the bridge.”
At the threat to his mate, Petraeus rose up, growling into the other centaur’s face, “Don’t you dare.”
“Easy, lad.” Rhoetus held up a placating hand. “She’s compelled me to aid her.”
Petraeus shifted his scowl toward her and she nodded.
“He’s right. I see the shadow of my spell across his form.”
“It’s true.” Minthe perched her hands on her hips, her head tilted in curiosity as she followed their conversation. “Rhoetus might be an arrogant cad, but he’s no traitor.”
“And you are as lovely and agreeable a blossom as ever, Asteri.” He cast her a devilish wink, to which she blew him a saucy kiss.
Petraeus fisted his hands, but Ekho was accustomed to her daughter’s provocative mannerisms. She was a nymph, after all. “Very well, Rhoetus. What do you propose?”
A twinkle in his eyes, he rubbed his hands together and blew on them. “That depends. Just how cold can your winds blow, nymph?”
* * *
They’d all gone bloody mad. Petraeus snorted while Ekho, Rhoetus, and Minthe devised a foolish scheme to rescue her.
Ekho’s daughter. Minthe. A nymph older than he was. His musings of becoming a father to a youngling and bouncing her upon his knee as he regaled her with marvelous tales vanished in a wisp of smoke.
Strangely, a protectiveness surged inside him in its place. Especially as Rhoetus regarded the female, more than passing interest in his keen gaze.
His hands clenched tighter at his sides. The sly scoundrel had better not take liberties with Ekho’s daughter, or he’d—
Right. He frowned at Ekho, who produced an icy wind, blowing it into a globe that encircled Rhoetus. He strode forth in his centaur form, balancing upon the thin boards of the bridge, the icy blast masking his presence and confusing the wards.
They were blocked against a nymph, but not her powers.
His centaur hooves balanced gracefully upon the narrow rope bridge, and thankfully it bore his weight. Carefully, he approached Minthe, who braced, protecting her face with her arms, against the fierce winds.
“Come on, love.” Rhoetus scooped her onto his back, spun around, and traced the rope bridge toward the ledge.
As they neared, the border of the enchantment wobbled, blurring as if sensing Minthe’s presence.
“Harder, Ekho.” Petraeus coaxed her, pressing his hand into the small of her back.
She pushed her hands outward, flaring the winds stronger.
Minthe clung to Rhoetus, her fingers locked around his waist. Their hair whipped about their bodies, their skin paling from the cold. Still, he trudged forward, nearing the ledge.
The enchantment wasn’t giving way. Damn. This wasn’t going to work. Minthe couldn’t get out and Ekho couldn’t go in.
What about another nymph? He sprinted to the cavern of vials, snatched one that glowed a bright red, and galloped back.
The others weren’t making any progress. Rhoetus continued to strive forward, but the bubble of enchantment refused to allow him passage with the nymph.
Petraeus raced to the opposite end of the chasm and twisted open the vial. “Now, Rhoetus!” He splashed the shimmering liquid across the abyss. The veil of the wards lifted, swallowed its victim, and promptly closed again, locking down from Petraeus’s location outward.
Rhoetus lunged forward and leapt across the last of the boards, landing in a crash on the stone floor just as the enchantment slammed behind him. He grunted and rolled to his side, offering his hand to Minthe.
Both of them shivered and chattered their teeth.
Ekho rushed forward and gathered Minthe in her arms, clucking over her like a mother hen. She pressed a few swift kisses to Minthe’s forehead before shining a bright smile on Rhoetus. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head, kneading his hands together and warming himself.
Petraeus strode toward the reunited family.
Ekho released her daughter and sent him a shy smile. “Minthe, this is Petraeus.”
“A pleasure.” He bowed, dipping his head and glancing sideways at Ekho.
“Mother, you shouldn’t have come. This place is dangerous,” Minthe scolded Ekho, who shook her head at her daughter. After a moment of glowering at one another, they both surrendered and embraced again.
“Minthe is right.” Rhoetus scanned the chamber. “That was a trap, and whoever set it won’t be far away.”
An ominous clatter of footsteps vibrated beneath his hooves in confirmation. Petraeus whirled around, hands lowering to snare his daggers.
Ekho snapped her fingers and, instead of entering a fight, he was swept away in a warm breeze that rolled him around and tumbled him upside down before spewing him upon soft earth.
“Ugh.” He clutched his head in his hands and staggered to his knees. Rhoetus appeared as nauseated as he felt, the color drained from his tanned cheeks.
A chiming laugh rang from his left. Petraeus tilted his face toward the two nymphs who perused them with amusement sparkling in their eyes. Neither appeared in the least uprooted. Likely because Ekho had transported Minthe before—an experience he’d rather not endure again.
He managed to rise to his feet, albeit wobbling. “What now?”
“I have to warn the nymphs.” Ekho wrung her fingers. “Their powers have been stolen.”
“Cheiron must be made aware as well,” Minthe chimed in.
“I am headed to the King,” Rhoetus offered.
“You’ll need a guide.” Minthe extended her hand. “I’ll accompany you.” He accepted, linking his hand in hers, and they grinned at each other with far too much congeniality.
“No.” Petraeus stepped between them, crossing his arms. “Cheiron is my father. I’ll warn him.”
“Are you proposing the three of us travel together?” Rhoetus cocked one dark brow.
“Minthe can travel with her mother,” Petraeus hedged. Even as he spoke, he sensed the folly of his proposal. Neither nymph was safe alone. He had no need to venture to his father, nor any wish to leave Ekho.
“I think we should separate.” Minthe glanced between him and Ekho with far too much perception for his comfort. “I’m more than capable of keeping this centaur in line.” She jerked her chin toward Rhoetus. “You ought to concern yourself with how to do the same with my mother.” She winked at him and sauntered off, beckoning Rhoetus to accompany her with a wave of her hand. He stepped spritely to her side, casting Petraeus a cocksure shrug as they ambled away.
Damn him.
“She’ll be fine.” Ekho laughed and placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. “As you said, Minthe is older than you. Besides, Rhoetus is under my command to protect her. He’s not our enemy, but we certainly do know who is.”
She frowned toward the cavern entrance in the distance.
Icy dread tightened his throat. “Aye, that we do.”
Chapter Nine
Ekho sighed at the horizon. They stood on the edge of a cliff, the setting sun washing them in a golden pink glow. They’d traversed the distance on foot, returning to centaur lands, Petraeus not once letting go of her hand.
His protectiveness set her at unease. She liked it, far more than she should.
D
eep inside, something prevented her from surrendering and agreeing to become his mate. Perhaps, once her memories were restored, she’d recall the reason why.
In this moment, she swept aside all reason and grabbed his vest, drawing his mouth to hers. Viewing Minthe in the prison had summoned one horrid memory—of being surrounded by iron bars and not knowing whether she’d ever step outside of them, ever be free again.
In Petraeus’s arms, she was free.
Her past didn’t matter, and neither did her future.
This moment consumed them. Backing him to a large oak, she urged him to perform the morphos into a human so he might make love to her. Even without the persuasion of her tongue, he willingly complied.
He didn’t bother with switching into a clothed form, as centaurs usually did. Nude and erect, he stood before her. Hungrily, her gaze wandered over every inch of his magnificently carved body, from the imposing breadth of his chest and shoulders, along his strong arms, rippling with meandering veins, to the mountainous landscape of his etched abdomen. He stood a good deal taller and larger than her, this fearsome centaur.
Petraeus was wild and strong, untamed, yet hers.
If she would but be daring enough to claim him.
She slipped the sleeves of her dress from her shoulders. His intense stare followed her movements, devouring her before he’d even touched her.
“Don’t move,” she compelled him, stepping free of her dress. His brows pinched together in painful anticipation, yet she sauntered around him, trailing her fingertips across his broad, athletic body, his muscles jolting from her caresses. A groan rumbled in his chest, unable to be freed.
His shaft twitched, long and proud and thick. After she finished her circle around him, she took pity upon his aroused body, sinking to her knees in front of him. She seized the base of his length in one hand and his sac in her other, fondling him before taking the tip into her mouth and giving him a hard suck.
Her centaur stood frozen before her, holding as steady as a marble statue. He might have obeyed her without the persuasion, for she sensed how utterly at her command he was. This male’s sole purpose had become to please her.